Page 111 of Wicked Nightmare

Lakey sighed, loud and dramatic, fists on her hips as she pointed the gun at him, her finger playing with the trigger. We needed a game plan, and fast. Before she decided to jump the gun and end it before we got to the meat and potatoes.

"Hey, sweet cheeks," I called to her. "Got a sec?"

We walked into the kitchen, where I could keep the prisoner in my sightline. "Those trackers. They look like they also track the people we want to go after. We could use that to save us time finding Sister Anne and Father Christopher." I kept my voice low, thinking about all those blinking dots on Beaver's phone. "Maybe we'll get lucky and we can match the numbers up to Skeet's info on his laptop, so we don't have to shoot in the dark at who is who. Chimera might even be one of them, though I doubt he'd be that stupid."

"Chimera could also be a she, Cam. Why you always gotta be so damn sexist? Besides, we don't even know if Chimera is a person. Might just be the whole fuckin' network. More stupid shit to figure out. Another day, I suppose." Lakey exhaled, her head tipping back. "But. Agreed. That chip in Rose's head? That's gotta go."

"My thoughts exactly." I grinned. "Time to play neurosurgeon?"

Lakey's answering smile was wicked. "On Beaver? I can't wait. I've always loved that operating board game and now I can try it out in real life. What a fantastic turn of events."

I took a moment and pretended to think on it.

"Can I do it, babe?" She was practically vibrating, playing with her karambit. "Pleaaaaase."

The way she looked at me with those big eyes made me want to say yes to everything she'd ever ask for the rest of our lives. "Let me do a quick lookie-loo on the laptop, go through the phone, and we can see what we find. If you feel confident, then yes, but... Lakes... you can't go in like a bull in a China shop. This is kind of a one-shot deal. If you fuck up, we lose the only chance we have at practicing."

Lakey nodded, grabbing the phone from my hand as I dropped down in front of the laptop, cracking my knuckles. Time to see what kind of tracking shit Skeeter had hidden in his digital closet. My fingers flew across the keys, digging through encrypted files. All this time going through this hard drive and I'd barely scratched the surface. Half the time I didn't even know what I was looking for, but with this tracker info, it would cut my search time drastically.

"Fuck yes, thank you Skeets," I muttered, pulling up a folder labeled 'Implant Procedure.' What an idiot. You'd think he would at least try to be stealth. Though, I suppose he hadn't planned on dying.

As I scrolled through diagrams that would make Frankenstein squeamish, my stomach did a flip. Not from the gore. I'd seen worse. I'd done worse. But from what this meant for Rose. This was complicated. Dangerous. One wrong move and it was game over. And as much as I loved Lakey, as much as I trusted her with my life and my body and every secret I'd ever kept, this wasn't something she could do. Her impatience would eat her alive halfway through. She'd get frustrated and push too hard and Rose would bleed out on our kitchen table.

"Fuck me sideways," I sighed, running a hand through my hair and over my face.

Across the room, Lakey was doing her own digging, bent over Beaver's phone, her brow furrowed in concentration. She chewed on her thumbnail when she was focused, a habit she'd had since we were kids. It was one of the only times she was still. No bouncing, no fidgeting, no running commentary. Just Lakey and whatever had her attention, locked together.

"Hey, Cam," she called out, her voice tight. "You seeing what I'm seeing? This... isn't good."

I glanced back at my screen. Scrolled down past the diagrams, past the procedure notes, past the diagrams of entry points and wire routing. Stopped.

There it was, in black and white: 'Neural chip integration complete. Removal impossible without fatal consequences.'

"Well, that's just lovely," I said. "Looks like our little Rose has got herself a permanent dance partner."

Lakey looked up from the phone. Her jaw was set, that stubborn angle that meant she'd already decided she was going to solve this regardless of what the file said. "We'll figure it out, babe. We always do. Worst case, if we open Beaver's head and can't, then I can do some lobotomy work. Wouldn't that be fun? Having our own little zombie."

I chuckled at the thought. Only Lakey.

A commotion from the living room drew my attention. Beaver was thrashing against the chair, his zip-tied hands scraping against the wood as he tried to wriggle free. Rose towered over him, her fingers pressed into his eye socket, pushing down as he screamed around the sock in his mouth. Not tentative. Not hesitant. She was pushing with intent, with pressure, and the sounds coming out of Beaver suggested she was close to popping it clean out.

Lakey watched with increasing fascination. She sauntered over, crouching down next to him. "Aw, does someone feel a little icky?" Then she turned to Rose. "You know, if you wanted to pop that out, we could keep it in a jar for you. I'm sure there's a homemade recipe for how to keep it good. Would you like that, Rose?"

I shook my head. These two were going to be the death of me. Or the death of everyone else, which was honestly the more likely scenario.

"Rose," I called out. "C'mere a sec, sweetheart."

"Really, Cam? Right now? I wanted to watch her pull his eye out. Fucker always ruining my fun." Lakey sat on the couch with a pout, crossing her legs in a flourish.

Rose approached cautiously, her fingers still wet. I kept my voice even. "I need you to tell me about those sensations you've been feeling. The burning. When does it happen?"

She hesitated, chewing on her lower lip. "It's... it's not constant. Just every once in a while. A flash of heat at the base of my skull."

Something clicked. I glanced at Beaver, then back at Rose. "And when was the last time you felt it?"

"Just before... before he showed up," she whispered, nodding towards our captive. "And then when you pressed it."

"Son of a bitch," I muttered. The pieces locked together. "From what I can gather from Skeet's files, it's not constantly active. Each one has a remote. The wire acts as some kind of antenna. Every time you felt that burn, this asshole was trying to pinpoint your location."